CREEPYPASTA'S

Asmodaios

Asmodaios
The first real night of autumn, cold, wet, a dangerous time for souls in the old days. It is that special time, three days before All Hallows' Eve, four days after, that I get to work. I have had many nights like this, one thousand and twenty four to be exact. I take it in, cruising along in a jacked ride, the owner screams in despair tied up in the back along for the ride. Always the same.

"Oh please, please release me."

My answer, "You opened the door. You let me in, buddy."

I have work to do, and my boss, he is neither kind, nor just, nor merciful, nor magnanimous.

And I do so love these "rides." I slow to a stop at a light, the raindrops patter against the windshield, it feels like an eternity since I last saw rain. An angry red glow scatters through the glass. I close my eyes and breathe deep, clean air, unstifled. The pain stops for a little, the burning sensation which racks me continually.

A green light now floods the interior of the car, I stomp the gas pedal.

"Please, please, I can't see anything, let me out. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" the owner pleads.

Faint screaming seems to penetrate from all directions, the screams inside of my head, like the pain, usually omnipresent. But the owner's gives me an external point of focus.

I chuckle, "You can scream all you want, peckerhead. But I am in control."

He sent the invitation, my boss Asmodaios opened it, like it or not. Dumb shit fleshpot should've know better.

Tires slash through waterlogged streets, the wipers' steady beat sooth my throbbing head. It feels good to be back. The owner is lucky it is me taking this ride and not the boss. I at least understand the pains and yearnings of the flesh, yearning, loss, missed opportunities, the unsatisfying grapplings between sweat soaked sheets, forbidden fruit. All of it, my master though thinks it is funny, comical, the way people don't learn always reaching for temptation that only results in an ephemeral paltry reward.

The owner was an idiot, opening Pandora's Box on the deep web. Click, click, jerk that dick.

He spent a lot of time looking for kiddy porn, barely adolescent girls, and he got more than he bargained for. That is when we came to play, the boss and me. It makes me chuckle when I remember that first night, rapping on the walls, tapping at windows, murmurings in the dark. Incessant we worked around the edges before upping the ante.

Major mindfucking is always fun.

One week before All Hallows' Eve I screwed with his computer, taking his locked files of pictures and making a cute little screen saver. I mean, what would his wife think? Then she would understand why he got his most turgid hard ons when she did the school girl thing, uniform and all.

Watching the ensuing panic and paranoia building was like a vacation. A vacation from the normal dreck and hell of my existence.

Then we got the hooks in and bagged him. Bagged him, locked the door and let him watch as we go for a ride. We possessed him, total, and in full control.

Even if the world knew we exist, me and my associates, very few have the tools to stop us. Most of the time everyone acts as if we could not exist, we travel on the currents of air, slip through the cracks, and move with the speed of darkness when the lights go out.

I think of all the horror and terror I have indulged in, participated, and precipitated through my actions and it is sooooo sweet. One last bit of the human condition left to me I can enjoy anymore.

The ancients believed at the time of the last harvest the veil between the spirit world and the physical wore thin. The time of darkness overtaking the light, long nights, biting cold. Death. We used to propitiate the coming Winter with sacrifice.